Page 4 of Saving Helena

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my composure in check. Who didhethinkhewas? Just because he was part of this club didn't mean he could dictate what I wore or how I acted.

"Excuse me, but it's not your place to comment on what I wear," I said, my voice barely holding steady despite the rage bubbling beneath the surface. "And for your information, this dress isperfect,” I added the last one even as I glanced down at it, smoothing the hem in uncertainty. Maybe it was a little short?

Maddox’s expression remained unchanged as I spoke, his face betraying no emotion whatsoever. It was as if he was staring through me, judging me with an infuriating lack of reaction. I couldn’t help but feel frustrated, as if he was silently mocking me. His silence only served to reinforce that idea.

"Besides," I continued, trying to keep my tone level, "even if you disagree with my choice of clothing, there's no reason to be so disrespectful to me or women at the club."

He scoffed, rolling his hazel eyes as if my words were insignificant. "You're too naive, Helena," he said, crossing his bulky arms. "You have no idea what kind of men are out there."

"Oh, you don’t think I do?" I retorted, unable to hold back my sarcasm. “I grew uphere, didn’t I?” Waving a hand around the club with a snort. I knew all about what sort of men there were. I was insulated from most of it, but I saw plenty. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in my book, but apparently, Maddox disapproved.

Maddox's jaw tightened, his gaze darkening with irritation and something else undefinable. "Watch your mouth, girl," he warned, his voice low and threatening.

I straightened my spine, refusing to back down. "I'll watch my mouth when you learn some manners," I shot back, the words dripping with defiance.

We were at a tense standoff for a moment, neither willing to concede ground.But then, Maddox’s expression softenedgradually, as if he were grappling with internal conflict — seeing me finally.

“Are those pterodactyls?” he asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” I affirmed, giving them a little tap. Earrings were my kryptonite; the weirder, the better. Give the dinosaurs, the coffee cups, the rubber duckies — ever since I was a little girl and my father had my ears pierced for me, those were the ones I wanted.

"Look, just... be careful, okay?" he finally said, his tone surprisingly gentler than before. "This world isn't kind to girls like you."

Before I could respond, he turned on his boots and strode out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I stoodmomentarily, unsure of his motivation for calling me out like that or his cryptic “girls like me” comment. What did that mean? Was that good or bad? I learned frombeingraisedin theclubthat men weren’t great at communication.

“Darling girl!”

My father’s voice distracted me from my thoughts of Maddox and our conversation as he strode into the room with his friend Whitney.

“Daddy.” Instantly feeling better, I moved towards him and into the circle of his arms. My father, Roscoe Marsh, had always been the center of my universe. Now, he was starting to show his age, with a full grey beard and a belly that was beginning to push the confines of his Iron Brotherhood cut. He’d been playing Santa for the Toys for Tots fun run for a few years now, and I’d been teasing him that he could start skipping the padding this year.

“You’re looking very grown up today. A little too grown-up, angel.” He looked a little sad as he peered at me. I looked down at my dress again. Maybe I had gone a little tooskimpy, but I hadfeltpretty grown up today.

“Ready to graduate?” Whitney asked, thankfully taking the focus off my clothes. He had been in the Brotherhood since I was small, a fixture in the club and one of my dad’s officers.

“Sure, Whitney. Piece of cake.” I threw a wink at him.

“We can’t keep you here forever,” he said, winking back. Whitney was one of my favorites during my childhood. When I was little, he’d read to me for hours, letting me stack books from the library high up on the bar in the Open Road.

The reality of what lay aheadwas starting to sinkin — college.I was leaving everything I knew behind.It was scary, but I knew my father had confidence in me, andthatgave me a flicker of courage.I was excited, too. The thought of going to school and doing something on my own was something I had thought a lot about.

"I guess it’ll be time to start packing my things soon," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

My dad nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. “We'll figure it out together, but you don’t belong here, my darling girl. You never did.”

My father felt guilty for raising me at the club while he continued with the Brotherhood, but the MC was his life. He had never had another job. With a new baby, there hadn’t been another option, and I think the support system that came with the club had helped him.

“Come on, Daddy. We’ll talk about this later. I don’t want to be late. You’re coming, right?” I asked Whitney. It was better to pull my father out of whatever sad musing he was heading towards. I didn’t want to argue about where I belonged right now. He wanted me to go and try college and get away from the MC for a while. I’d do that for him.

There have been many milestones in my life where I’ve ended up with members from the club in place of parents showing up to escort me to events. Sometimes, kidswould comment or make snide remarks, but eventually, they gave up trying to make me feel bad about it when they realizeditwasn’t anything I was ashamed of. Instead, I felt sorry forthem.

“Of course, I’m coming, sweat pea. I’m honored you want me there.Can’twait to see you get your diploma. Some of the other guys will be there, too.” He glanced at me shyly. We’re hoping you’ll come back later for a little party. Amber made you a special cake.”

“Awesome.” My reply was easy and light. A cake from Amber, Whitney’s old lady, was just what I needed to round out my celebration.

When Ireturnedlate in the evening, the Open Road was buzzing with activity. Music thumped from the speakers, andlights glowed from the edges of the walls. The party was in full swing.

True to Whitney’s word,my cake was brought outfor me at the bar, and within moments, Brotherhoodmembers I knew came over to wish me congratulations.

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